Red Robin: A Birdie Alone
by MissScorp
Summary: A new dynamic duo stands watch over Gotham. But where does that leave the former Robin? Two-shot (split into three chapters). Dick/Damian as Batman & Robin. Angst and instances of family drama and friendship. T for mild swearing.
1. A Birdie Alone

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for the general concept of my story and general theme...

**A/N**: Okay, this story can be taken as being slightly AU. I'm taking the Red Robin collected comic issue #1 called **The Grail** and taking some of it (namely out of issue #4 here which features the spat between Dick and Tim) and putting my own spin into it.

* * *

_The outskirts of Gotham..._

"Tim, we need to talk."

_Wasn't everything that needed to have been said, said when you told me I was no longer Robin? _

The urge to hurl the words at the man wearing that cape and cowl boiled into his throat. It took every ounce of his remaining strength to remember that the man staring at him from behind that mask was like an older brother (and the only one he had considering he'd been the only child born to Jack and Janet Drake) to him.

"I know you believe Bruce is alive... and God knows I want that to be true." There was a note buried deep within those softly spoken words that revealed just how desperately that Dick Grayson wanted to believe that he was right-that Bruce was alive. But if there was one thing that this Batman was, it was practical. And practicality told him that there was absolutely no way that anybody-even Batman, could have survived Darkseid's attack.

_But I'm not bound by practicality as of right now. Hell, Ra's al Ghul is now my partner. What does that say about my lack of practicality?_

"But this time... this time is not like all those other times where we thought he was dead," Dick said. "Everything we went through, before the crisis...it was just the prelude of what was coming. Bruce was a lucky man for a number of years. But his luck ran out."

_Before the crisis I lost my father and my stepmother. All I had was you and Bruce. And I simply cannot accept that I've lost Bruce._ _Not anymore then I'd accept that I'd lost you._

"We're not like the others. We're not Gods, or metaphysical human hybrids. We don't have special powers. We're just men, Tim. And we can die."

_Do you _think_ I don't know that, Dick? I know that better than anyone. _

"Superman brought Bruce's body out to us. Laid him at our feet," the elder superhero said in a voice wracked with pain; suppressed grief. "And we buried that body, that man. And now we have to let him go. And move on as he wanted us to."

_Don't you understand that _I'm_ not ready to let Bruce go?_

"Tim, will you talk to me? Please?"

_Why? It isn't like you have been hearing a damned thing I have been saying since this nightmare began._

Dick held a hand towards him, said softly;_ "_I want to_ help."_

_You don't want to help me. Not really. You just want me to shut up and accept what I cannot accept._

Tim told himself to leave before he did something he'd only end up regretting, something that he couldn't take back, something there weren't enough _I'm sorry's_ in the world for. He wasn't so far gone though that he couldn't admit that he desperately wanted to take Dick's offer of help. He was so hungry for the familiar warmth and security of his extended family that it felt as if teeth were gnawing at his spine. But accepting their comfort and support meant he had to _accept, _to_ believe _that Bruce Wayne was, to the world at large, _dead. _And he couldn't do that. Which was why he said in a voice so unlike his regular one;

"No."

But he really should have anticipated that Dick was not going to simply let him leave. Even though walking away was something that he was extremely good at doing whenever things got bad between him and Bruce, it was not something that Dick allowed either of his younger siblings to do. He grabbed him before he could climb onto the _Red Cycle_. Nerves already stretched to the breaking point began to snap and fray. Only sheer will kept him from reaching for the bo-staff clipped to his utility belt.

"Let me go, Dick," he gritted. "_Now_."

"No."

Dick had finally found the right button to push. Tim twisted his body inwards and flipped the older man onto his back with a wristlock maneuver. Everything he'd been keeping bottled within him boiled to the surface. All the grief and anger and hurt burst from him in one cataclysmic pyroclastic blast.

"You think I don't know?!" he shouted. "You think I don't _know_ how crazy that everything I'm saying _sounds_?"

Dick blocked the punch aimed at him, chose to remain quiet because he knew the younger man needed to vent the toxic gases living inside him.

"I lost my dad and my step-mom, I lost three of my best friends... and now I've lost Bruce, too."

Dick nimbly leapt over the leg that Tim tried to use to sweep his.

"But I could have handled all that. I could have dealt with it. But then you took away the only thing I had left and gave it to Damian, of all people!"

Dick sent a kick at Tim, more as a point specifying that he was willing to give him a lot of leeway and room because he understood he was hurting, but was not afraid to take him down if he had too. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd had to fight one of his brothers. Tim blocked Dick's fist with his wrist gauntlet.

"I know I'm right about Bruce. I know he's alive."

Tim hated himself for daring to physically strike out at a man. But he was just not able to control the dragon that was now awake and hungry inside him.

"I know how you feel."

_No, you don't, Dick. You don't have any clue as to how I feel_, Tim thought bitterly. _You haven't a clue about how it feels to be told that you are no longer a Padawan all the while thinking, feeling as if you haven't yet really earned the rank of a Jedi Knight. Nor were you told that some smart-mouthed brat was going to be taking over your identity. Your _life_._

He threw a high kick that Dick easily blocked.

"There's someone I want you to talk to, a therapist in Metropolis that is a friend of Raya's..." Dick said.

"No." He tossed a handful of his new emblem discs at the same time that he reached for his bo-staff. "I'm done here."

Dick moved to the side to avoid being clipped by Tim's round projectiles. "C'mon, this isn't accomplishing..." he trailed off when he felt the blunt edge of Tim's bo against his chest. He lifted his head and fixed Tim with a look that was both surprised and questioning. "...anything?"

"I'm leaving," the younger man growled in response. "And I need you to let me go." Dick opened his mouth to protest, but Tim pushed the staff deeper against his chest plate. "_You _called us equals. Said that we're _brothers_. Well, if we really are equals... and really brothers... then _believe in me_. And let me go on my search. I've earned it."

Dick realized at that moment that he could force his will onto Tim as Bruce would have done. Or he could do what Tim asked and let him go. Prove that they were equals, that they were brothers. It wasn't a hard choice for him to make. He stepped back with a nod, and did nothing more than watch as Tim climbed onto his bike. And sped off into the night to whereabouts unknown.


	2. Hand of Friendship

Tim's thoughts were conflicted as he drove away from that cliff. And away from Dick. He rarely quarreled with his older brother, and they hardly ever came to blows. But goddamn it, Dick had promised him that everything was going to be alright. _But nothing is alright_, Tim thought sadly. In fact, nothing could be more _wrong_. His entire world had crashed down around him. And it was simply more than his seventeen-year-old self was able to handle alone. _But that's what I am_, he thought. _Alone_.

He spied the slender figure hanging upside-down, much like the nocturnal creature that was Batman's namesake, from the freeway sign a second before he roared beneath it. _What the hell is Fenix doing here? _he wondered, slowing the bike to a stop and staring up at the shapely figure.

There had been a drizzle earlier in the evening, and a chill that went along with it, but the wind had died to barely a stir. If it had still kicked, the woman hanging from the thin rope would have been swung back and forth and in danger of having the limb she hung from torn off at the joint.

Streetlights made shadows of the world surrounding them; the clouds masking the moon and stars overhead. But the spandex-clad figure looked neither left nor right, up nor down. She just continued staring at the small screen of the mini-computer she held in her hands. He dropped one booted foot onto the wet pavement and took a moment to admire her in that skintight outfit.

He told himself he would have to commit himself to Arkham if he _didn't _stop to appreciate her in that bodysuit. Tim could admit—albeit, only to himself, that he had a small crush on the woman hanging above him. He was a relatively normal red-blooded male after all. But that was all it was: a _crush_. Raya was eight years his senior. And one of his best friends. That made dating a _nah-uh_ in his books.

And right there was the root, one of the many tangled roots in fact, of the problem hanging in front of him. While Raya was one of _his_ closest friends, _her_ best friend was Dick Grayson. _She'll side with Dick_, he thought with a sting of bitterness. _Say he's right and that I should see the therapist that he wants me to see_. Some of his anger and resentment rose up to again choke him.

"Dick wasn't kidding when he said everyone was worried about me," he gritted. "When did he call you?"

Bottle green eyes shifted from the computer monitor, gazed out at him from behind a thin black mask. Those eyes were soft with what he saw was sympathetic understanding and pity. It was the sight of that pity that had him clenching his jaw. He fixed her with a glare that was burning, blistering blue, silently telling her that her pity was neither wanted nor appreciated.

Raya slid her mini-computer into one of her suit's hidden compartments. How well she remembered the way grief turned into fury, a raging flood of anger that had caused her to distrust everyone around her and to isolate herself in solitude. But she'd had Batman, a larger than life shadow looming over her that neither a broom nor turning on a light would banish back to the darkness. Batman had simply ignored her, not listening to her proclamations of wanting to be left alone, nor allowing her to stew in the emotional mire she'd felt her life had become. Raya pushed her dark thoughts and memories to the back of her mind and focused upon the young man currently glaring up at her.

"Dick didn't call me, Tim."

"Right," he scoffed.

"I have not spoken to, nor even seen Dick in close to three weeks," she spoke gently now. "His responsibilities here in Gotham and mine in Blüdhaven have kept us both a tad busy."

"Who called you then? Because I _know _someone called and asked you to come and check up on me. So if it wasn't Dick, then who? Alfred? Barbara? Stephanie?"

He knew he wasn't being fair to her. But his emotions were raw and pumping through him like a fast-acting drug. Any second he thought he'd simply implode from the virulent infection raging inside him. Raya dropped to the ground, telling herself that he was only lashing out at her because he was hurting. And she was the one currently in his line of fire.

"In the last sixty-one hours I have had phone calls from Alfred, Barbara, uncle Jim, Clark, Stephanie, Conner, Flash, Cassie, and Jason. And the only two people that I called back were uncle Jim and Alfred." She fished in one of her suit's pockets and pulled out her cellphone. Held it out to him. "You can check both my call and text logs if you don't believe me."

"That's not your only phone, Raya."

It wasn't the surprise or the uncertainty that flickered on his face that was her undoing. It was the look in his eyes...so naked and raw with the whirl of emotions she knew were hammering at him, that pierced all the way to her soul. That caused her heart to ache, one slow, twisting ache that hurt worse than a fist to the chest. Even as his body jerked, then stiffened, she stepped to him, smoothed her hand over his cheek, felt the muscles in his jaw throb against her palm and knew he was keeping a tight lid on himself at that moment.

"You can check that phone as well."

That she was willing to strip aside, by her own free will, every inch of her privacy in order to prove her honesty hammered at his defenses. And stole some of the wind outta his sails.

"I'm sure Alfred..."

"Called to convey his concerns as well as to _ask_ my professional opinion on what he should do to help you, Dick and Damian through this particularly rough patch. But Tim," she kept her tone light, but still managed to say in a firm tone; "Alfred did _not_ ask me to check up on you. Likely because he already knew or suspected that I have been keeping watch over you for the last several weeks."

"So, you _were_ spying on me," he spat in a cold, hard voice. "Just like Stephanie! You didn't care enough about me to come to _me_ directly. You couldn't talk to me face-to-face. Or listen to what I had to say. You didn't care enough to just be there for me!"

Temper sizzled in every word. But beneath the anger was a well of hurt that she knew went way beyond this night; this moment. And twisted her heart into a constrictor knot.

"I'm sorry if my watching over you upsets you, but," she set a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently.  
"I was only trying to give you some space and freedom in which to breathe. I figured you would call or text me when you were ready to talk."

Knowing she was being considerate of his feelings, giving him room to move in and respecting his right to privacy only made him feel worse instead of better. His emotions ragged, his thoughts in a whirl, he shoved her hand off his shoulder and gritted;

"You probably just think like the rest of them, that my grief and shock over losing Bruce has driven me insane."

"Oh, Timmy." Her voice was ripe with sympathy. "I don't think your grief has driven you insane at all."

He sneered now, damning them both, and himself most of all. But there was a monster in his head, teasing, taunting, and torturing him.

"Really?" Sarcasm dripped like acid as he took his cowl off; glared, one long, frustrated stare. "You don't think my grief and shock over losing Bruce is what has me believing he is alive and out there somewhere?"

His face was leaner than she remembered it being, the hollows in his cheeks suggesting that grief had him forgetting about regular meals. Yes, she thought, Timothy Drake was a young man who'd had his life stained by the loss of family and friends. And losing Bruce was pushing him towards an edge that was hard to come back from. _A ledge that Bruce brought me back from_, she thought with a sigh.

"No, I don't."

His mouth thinned into a cold, hard line. "And why not?"

"Because," she stroked his arm, shoulder to elbow. Then realizing he was trembling she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. "_I _know my little birdie wouldn't say something that he doesn't believe or think is true."

She'd humbled him, Tim thought. This pretty green-eyed brunette that had been sweetly supportive, gently compassionate, then totally honest all in the span of ten minutes had brought him to his knees.

"Damn it, Raya. Why can't _they _see that it's _possible_ he's alive?" he muttered darkly. "Why is it so impossible for _them_ to believe that I might be right?"

"Because it's easier for them to give up hope now and deal with their grief rather than give up their grief and have their hopes crushed."

He thought what she said over. It was sensible. And it was logical. Tim found that he preferred her sensible logic more than he did the carefully worded phrases of concern that he had been receiving from everyone else.

"I'm leaving Gotham in the morning." He angled his head to look at her. Saw her brow lift questioningly. "I'm going to search for clues to prove that I am right, that Bruce is out there somewhere. That he's alive."

"Define what you mean by _somewhere_."

_Here it is_, he thought. _Here is where she changes her mind and decides that I am, in fact, crazy_.

"I think Bruce got caught in Darkseid's _Omega Sanction_ and is traveling through time."

If she was surprised by his announcement, it didn't show. In fact nothing showed on her face but a quiet pensiveness. Then she took him completely by surprise when she nodded and asked;

"Okay... how can I help?"

Taken completely off guard, Tim could do nothing but gape at her in open-mouthed amazement.

"Raya..." his cheeks began to burn with the depth of his shame and embarrassment. "I... wow..." he lowered his head, muttered; "I don't know what to say."

"You're the closest thing that I have to a younger brother, Tim. And I will do any..."

The sound of a familiar car roaring up the road towards them drew both of their attention.

"Shit," Tim muttered as the slash of headlights fell on them, blinding them both for a moment.

"I'll deal with _him_." Her fingers brushed his shoulder in a gentle caress before she stepped away, turned. "You go on and get out of here."

Tim bit down hard on his lip. He owed her an apology, and knew it. Just as he knew she'd wave the apology away. Say again that he was her brother, and that she understood he was hurting.

"No." He curled his fingers around her wrist, surprising her with the sudden intensity. "No. I don't want you to get involved. Not in this." Because he wanted her to look at him, he cupped her chin gently in his fingertips, held her gaze steady. "This is for Dick and I to resolve. Don't get involved, okay?"

"Tim." She laid her palm against his cheek. "I've been involved ever since this adorable little birdie flew into an abandoned warehouse, thinking that I meant his big brother harm and doing whatever was necessary in order to protect him."

He smiled, as despite the emotions still storming through him, it was a nice memory. But, he found that he couldn't resist teasing her.

"What I remember about that night is letting you pin me."

"Letting me pin you?" She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Oh, will you listen to this little bird you've given me? And I suppose you've been _letting _me pin you the dozens of other times that we've sparred with each other?"

"I... uh..." his cheeks burned.

"I told Dick that that was why you liked sparring with me over him," she teased playfully.

"A guy would have ta be nuts to _not_ wanna be pinned by you."

Raya was used to men complimenting her. Mostly the compliments were nothing but veiled attempts to gain access to the large fortune that she'd inherited from her grandfather. She'd learned to weed the sincere compliments from the insincere ones a long time ago. But flattering her in order to get something from her was not what Tim had in mind when he paid her such a sweet compliment. Nor was he flirting with her. It was just a heartfelt declaration, an observation made through eyes that were not jaded by desire or greed.

"You're a sweet one, Tim," she said sincerely. "Any girl that manages to steal your heart will find herself the richest, luckiest girl in the world."

"Being sweet doesn't matter when you routinely lie to the people you are dating." In the back of Tim's mind he heard a dark voice whisper- _lie_,_ make excuses too, just are never there for in general._ The truth left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Crime fighters don't make the best boyfriends and girlfriends."

"I know we don't. Our very jobs demand us to deceive, to lie, to make up excuses. And that is not necessarily a stone that helps to build a foundation of trust."

"Speaking of trusting. I have a request to ask of you."

"Anything, Tim. Just ask it."

"You believe in me, see us as equals, and like siblings."

She smiled. "Of course."

"Let me deal with Dick."

She shook her head. "No. Tim..."

He tugged her towards him.

"I know that you trust me. I know that you trust me to do the right thing, to continue to stand for what I have always stood for even though I have taken on a persona that has a less than stellar reputation. I know you trust me to stand for you the same way I would stand for the rest of the Batfamily or the Titans. You trust me enough for all that. I'm asking you to trust me with this, too."

"I trust you with all that," she told him as she framed his face, kissed his forehead. "And a whole lot more. I do love you bird brain." Her lips twitched. "Even though your dark and brooding moods as of late have made you a little _less_ adorable and a whole lot harder to love...I do still love you."


	3. The Connective Tissue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for the general concept of my story and theme...

* * *

Dick Grayson stepped from the Batmobile in time to hear Raya tell Tim that she loved him. And hearing it, he felt a twinge in his gut. Not in jealousy- he knew full well that there was nothing going on between them- but in envy that another man could wring such warmth and affection from her. That another man could hear that soft and heartfelt declaration, even as a _friend_.

He flicked his gaze over to his younger brother, tried to read Tim's thoughts. And realized they were as closed to him now as they had been for the last several weeks. _And will likely remain so after the events of the last few days_, he thought sadly. He saw the hurt and anger, the uncertainty and the fear in Tim's eyes. But he didn't know how to help him or how to make everything alright. He was only barely keeping things together himself.

"What are you doing in Gotham, Raya? I thought you were going to remain in Blüdhaven to keep an eye on things there for me?"

"I think I am needed here in Gotham more than I am in Blüdhaven."

"Raya..." Dick gritted.

"Dick..." she said back just as firmly. "You might be wearing the cape and cowl of _Batman_ but that doesn't mean that you've suddenly become _Bruce Wayne_. You aren't capable of his level of cynicism or pessimism for one thing." She softened the sting of her words by smiling at him. "And you don't have his ability to turn brooding into an advanced type of personalized warfare for another."

"You haven't had to deal with _his _brooding phase lately," Tim muttered behind her. "Which ultimately comes after his pissed-off phase and which is, you can trust me on this, a whole lot harder to deal with ever since he struck out on his own."

Raya bit back a smile. "Dick was always moody."

Tim snorted. "I don't mean _moody_. I've seen him _moody_. What I'm talking about is damn near Bruce Wayne-level brooding. And do you know what he likes to do when he is brooding?"

"You mean what does he do when he's not racing _away _from Gotham and his six-foot-two problem?" Raya asked.

Dick snorted a laugh. "You didn't have to deal with said six-foot-two problem, Raya. If you had then you'd have been fleeing Gotham, too."

Raya cocked her head to the side and gave him a saucy grin.

"Now why would I need to flee Gotham when I could simply hide at my uncles?" she asked.

"Now why didn't I think of something like that?" Dick wondered aloud.

"You did do that," Tim pointed out. "You just hid at _Raya's_ place rather than at Commissioner Gordon's."

Dick sent his brother a grin.

"There's a particular reason for _why_ I chose to hide at Raya's."

"Yea, yea," Tim said dryly. "We know what your particular _reason_ for hiding at Raya's is, thank you very much."

"Take heart my young Robin," Raya said. "You didn't have to worry about the Police Commissioner shooting you for being in bed with his niece."

"Oh, you are just freakin' hilarious Rae," Dick said dryly.

"Oh, I know I am."

"Anyway," Dick said on a long breath. "You never answered my earlier question. What are you doing in Gotham?"

"You need me here in Gotham, Dick."

_Stubborn, prideful, ridiculously loyal woman_, Dick thought. Then he sighed. Her pride and obstinate nature were two of the qualities that had helped her survive the nightmare that her father had put her through. And loyalty was a trait he knew he never had to question with Raya. It was more like a religion with her. One that frequently got her into trouble. And which could, if he didn't trim her tail feathers now, be her downfall.

"No. I need you in Blüdhaven."

"Dick, you need someone here to help keep _you_ bal-"

"Raya," his eyes flashed with his growing ire. "I need the Fenix to keep an eye on things in Blüdhaven. I don't want the city left unprotected."

"The city is not being left unprotected," she returned just as heatedly. "I made provisions before coming here to ensure that the city has somebody standing watch."

Dick took a breath, trying to stem the flow of emotions surging within him. But he was stretched thin at that moment. Getting into the fight with Tim earlier and dealing with Damian on a day to day basis was taking all the mental resources that he had. He really didn't need her to take a stance against him, too.

"I need someone that I trust to watch over the people of Blüdhaven."

But Tim had had enough.

"What you need is someone you trust watching your back in case your _Robin_ decides to try and kill you as he did me."

"Goddamn it, Tim!" Dick swore as his temper-egged on by his own pounding grief, guilt and exhaustion, finally boiled over the top. "I've explained..."

"And you're never wrong are you?" Tim shot back. "Can't make a mistake can you?"

"And what makes you think that you're right?" Fury raged inside him, hot, boiling rage that was the product of grief. He could feel every emotion as it coursed through his veins. Fast, powerful and dangerous. "What makes you so goddamn sure that he's alive? What _proof_ have you got?"

He climbed off the bike and faced the masked figure standing less than ten feet away from him. He bunched both fists and nearly used them. Very nearly used them. The only thing that stopped him from charging at Dick was the woman standing in front of him.

"Being wrong is better than your blind, stubborn ignorance!" Tim gritted. "Why can't you trust-think that I'm right, Dick? Why is it so impossible for you to believe that he might be alive?"

Raya heard the edge in their voices, knew it as a sign of a rising and reckless mood. And it concerned her. The more they argued with each other, the more risk there was of them getting into another physical confrontation.

"Stop! Stop it." She said, moving to stand between them. "This is accomplishing nothing," her eyes shifted, pinning first Dick and then Tim. "You should be pulling together and helping each other. Su_pporting _each other instead of fighting with each other.

You're more than just partners, more than just friends even. You're _brothers _for chrissakes_!_" She planted her fists on her hips. "What would your _father_ think if he saw you two snapping and snarling at each other like two rabid pit bulls?"

Tim reached out and set a hand on her back. It was rigid as tempered steel.

"I'm sorry, Raya. But this is why I didn't want you to get caught in the middle. I don't want her in the middle of this," he said to Dick. "This is our fight to resolve, not hers."

"On that we agree," Dick said, nodding. "But Raya is in the middle of this whether we want her to be or not."

"No..." Tim began but Dick cut him off.

"She's made herself the neutral zone, Tim. The place where no fighting can occur."

"That's because _she_ knows that neither one of you birdbrains will run the risk of hurting_ her_ in order to hurt each _other_."

"As much as I hate to admit it, she's right." Dick folded his arms across his chest. "No matter how much we'd love to take a swing at each other, we'd never once risk doing so with her standing between us."

"That's because_ she_ knows the quality of men that your paternal fathers and adoptive father all raised you to be."

It was a pointed jab. _You know him_. And he did know Tim, he realized. He'd watched him grow into a formidable crime fighter_. _So why was it so hard for him to believe that Tim just might be right_? _He drew in a breath, let it out slowly. And looked at his brother.

"We can't go on like this," he said. "One of us has to bend in order for things to again be right between us."

"I just need you to believe in me, Dick," Tim said quietly. "Even if you cannot believe that I am right, that Bruce is really out there somewhere, just _believe_ _in_ _me_. That's all I'm asking for at this moment."

"Tim," Dick said slowly. "I have always believed in you. Even if I don't agree with you, I will always believe in you."

Tim didn't smile but his face softened and the blaze of anger began to slowly fade from his eyes. Raya released the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"Where were you thinking about starting your search?" she asked him.

"I was thinking about starting in Europe," Tim said slowly. "Or South America."

Raya nodded and watched as he pulled his cowl back on.

"You're leaving?"

He nodded as he climbed onto his bike.

"I have lots of things left to do before I leave in the morning. I'll be back in a couple of weeks."

He'd lingered longer than he'd planned, taking pleasure and comfort in her company, in her gentle soothing. But night was beginning to wane. But when he made to start the bike, Raya set a hand on his arm.

"Why don't you give me a lift back to my bunker?" She moved her hand from his arm to his shoulder. "I want to talk to you. _Alone_."

Tim was rarely surprised. But the delight in having her ask _him_ and not Dick to take her back to her temporary headquarters here in Gotham surprised him by its depth. He'd not known, or really understood, just what having that level of trust meant to him.

"Really now?" He gave her a cocky grin to cover up just how ridiculously pleased he was by her request. "Am I gonna need a chaperone?"

Raya rolled her eyes skywards.

"Oh, would you listen to him?"

Dick saw Tim's surprise, the flicker of pleasure that crossed his face, and understood it. He also understood Raya, knew what she was about by asking the younger man to take her back to her bunker. _Maybe her being here will be good for him_, he thought.

"If you guys need anything, don't hesitate to call," he said. "You have family and friends here who won't hesitate to come if you ask for help."

"I will," Tim promised. "And Dick? Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me, Tim," came the somber reply. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Hey, don't worry." Tim flashed him a quick, cocky grin. "It's me, remember?"

And then they were gone.


End file.
